


Cerebria: Rise of the Inside World

by Masterweaver



Category: Cerebria
Genre: Gen, Whimsical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-03 09:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterweaver/pseuds/Masterweaver
Summary: Initially formless, the mindscape of Cerebria arises from the Origin. But nothing can exist forever unnamed and untamed. Two opposing forces -- Bliss and Gloom -- emerge to shape the world in their own image...





	1. Origin

Silence.

Nothingness.

And then....

A spark.

A maelstrom of energy, of undirected possibility, swirling round in swathes of violet power. Later, it will be called the Origin. Later there will be beings to name it as such. Now, however, there is only raw, unfiltered being, writhing without paths or purpose or any sense of existence. Yet it exists despite that. And there is dissolution, a division, that causes the energies to bump and rebound and coalesce and collapse. There is... not self, not yet. Instinct. The storm will blow itself out if it is not defined, held back by something, and so it forms a shell, soft and varied, though it swirls consistently underneath.

Now constrained, the storm is not comfortable. It formed the shell for a purpose, but it does not--cannot--understand why. It lashes out and lances through part of the shell, letting its energies pour out in a slow but constant trickle. Near the base of the gash, such power is dangerous. Yet as it flows away, down into a valley, the power lessens, splitting into rivers and streams and creeks. And on the edges of those creeks there comes extension. Like the storm, they move, but the mixture of solid and liquid is not enough to provide--they suck hungrily at the energy, growing, growing, yet still feel a need beyond.

To one side of the valley, the extensions seek to ensure their fuel is not taken. And so they grow small forms, which fruit and burst and wander along the creeks, gathering and shaping power in minor ways. These beings have some understanding of the world around them, something beyond base instinct, yet feel no need to consider beyond. Through their meanderings, however, they discover the other side of the valley, and in it a single extension that has claimed all the streams there. They wish such power, and the extension provides an exchange; not the direct energy of the source, but purified essence provided to the little beings. With it, they can shape themselves, and rapidly they diversify, providing more shape and control and unique interactions.

All things are connected back to the Origin, which learns to sense through these strange beings, who live independently and yet also part of it. The Origin wishes to know more, and so, therefore, do the beings; they spread across the land, making villages and societies even as they learn and grow. They build a land of desires, to experience anything new, and a network of thoughts, to keep together even when far apart. They grow more distinct, shaping themselves further, and they gain unique abilities, and they take names. And for a time, there is simply an existence of learning and being.

And then the eyes open, the outside world is seen, and suddenly everything is upended.

There is life outside what is known. The origin is not able to process this, as young as it is. What are these shapes? Why are they so strange, and yet so familiar? Sounds, and that sounds exist is a novelty, sound pours in, reverberating without any form or reason. All is chaos, nothing is understood, and the small beings rush about trying to stabilize the land as it quakes and trembles. They manage, barely, to keep everything together, yet betwixt their efforts there is clearly no comprehension. What is this world, defined by itself, in comparison to the outside? What is outside, anyway? How can it know, if it cannot extend? What is it? There is much confusion and no end. The hints of gloom and bliss form, terror at the beyond and wonder as well.

Yet the efforts of the small creatures give the Origin something it has not had. An idea. If these small beings could help, then perhaps it could create greater spirits to make an understanding clearer. Yes, such would be of little effort to the essence of all, and so it condenses, making first what it understands and reaching out into itself to bind and twist. And with such effort, it achieves creativity, launching its creation outward--unable to decide whether bliss or gloom is more important, and thus with accident splitting it in twine. The eyes shut, for now. The chaos the outside world brought is quelled, for the moment, yet it has only begun. In shadow and light, beings unlike any seen before rise, not quite ruled by the Origin itself, yet set to serve it. Each looks about, feels the realm, and begins their journey without understanding. They will, in time. 

What was meant as one shall be two. And each shall find purpose in horror and wonder, a pattern not to be broken till the end. What follows shall be the quest to claim dominance over the Origin, through powers and magics and subtle manipulations, through building and fortifying and revelation, through influence and invocations and quellings. To claim one side heroic would be to misapprehend the purpose of the other, yet they struggle nonetheless through such potency opposed that till the final ones arrive they will not understand the meaning of collaboration, even as both shape their realm.

From henceforth the tale shall address the adaptation of each spirit to the world, and the world to each spirit, till the final one has taken their place. For it is in their creation that they are set forth, and it is in their purpose that the fate of the realm shall be defined. Together and opposed they shall craft identity, for the Origin, for their home, and for each other, though none shall realize till the process has already begun. Progression comes through action, and action comes through motivation, and motivation comes from the power of the storm that is the core. And when such is realized, then and only then will there be understanding.

This, then, is where our story truly begins.

This is the creation and definition of the forces which will champion bliss and gloom.

This is the understanding of each spirit, each purpose, within the scape of mind.

This is the tale of their conflict, their binding, their rulership.

This is the rise of Cerebria, the inside world.


	2. Misery

The being that would become Misery had no name, at first. It was a stream of shadows, floating through the skies of Cerebria, learning of its realms and energies when the eyes were shut. And when they opened, it would watch the shapes and sounds of the beyond with disquiet. How could such be of any import when there was a whole world within? Why share concern about those outside? No, in the end, the being that would become Misery turned away from such thoughts, descending to Cerebria and writhing into a form suited well for quiet observation. It slunk and slithered and slipped from realm to realm. And in so doing, the being that would become Misery decided it best to turn all attention from the realm outside.

Yet, despite the terror that had come from realizing there was a beyond, the small beings of Cerebria had a wonder too. And more was built with the power from Origin, the will to continue ever onward. This was a grievous issue in the eyes of the new spirit, who could see the constant building would result in ever more reaching for the beyond. This could not be allowed. Such chaos, such growth, had to be stilled. So it watched, and considered, and finally realized that the power of the Origin fueled all things. If it took such power for itself, the spirit considered, then not only would it have more power, those that would build would have less.

So the being of shadows twisted forward on its six spined tentacles, reaching out with feathered arms and grasping the power of will with clawed hands. It was subtle, knowing that a unified force could perhaps counter it, but as time went on it grew craftier in its robberies. And yet still the beings around built and grew, a constant outreach that was barely slowed by its efforts. The spirit could move swiftly, and even take power from the land itself, and yet... it could not be everywhere at once. This was concerning, yet... not all was lost. It noticed that the small beings themselves had conflict. Perhaps it need not continue alone.

As it set about its new plan, the spirit realized it had no face with which to speak. So it crafted a mask, long and thin and pointed, with a beak of gold and a pair of hollow eyes that brushed against the thick dark mane that was its head. And it watched the small beings till at last it found its first selection; a limbless slug with growths covered in spines that radiated sullenness as it watched those about it. For a time it observed the being's life, the way it interacted with others, or more accurately how they did not. Words were crafted and spiraled in the shadows, till finally, the spirit slithered forward, gently lowering its mask next to the creature's ear.

"What is your name, little one?" it whispered.

The creature gave it a glance, seeing no expression in the hollow eyes, before turning away. "I am Bitterness."

"I have seen how you gaze upon the others," the spirit whispered. "How they move without you, despite you."

"They have no understanding of me," Bitterness declared grimly. "They have arms and legs and wings, and think me weak for lacking them."

"True, they have no understanding," the spirit said gently. "That you continue on proves it. And these growths upon you, covered in spines as they are, set you little need to run."

"Yes, this is true," Bitterness agreed.

"Perhaps it would be better," the spirit suggested, "if they were to know how difficult it is to stave you off. Perhaps..."

"I have proven strong," Bitterness proclaimed. "Yet still they ignore me."

"There may, perhaps, be a way to strengthen you more," the spirit offered.

Bitterness turned again to the spirit, looking upon it thoughtfully. "Such an offer is strange to grant so freely."

"The others do not respect your strength as it is," the spirit explained. "Perhaps growing it shall provide more understanding."

"Perhaps," Bitterness mused. "Very well. Show me this secret."

So it was that the spirit took Bitterness to the Willow of Values, which had agreed to grant purified essence so those who took it could shape it. And the spirit flew up, pouring the collected power of will it had into the Willow, whereupon it fruited grandly--yet because such power was channeled through the spirit, a touch of gloom came to the fruits. The spirit gathered its spoils and lay them before Bitterness.

"I have had essence before," the small being said.

"But you have never had one to shape you as you ate," the spirit replied. "I can grant you that which you seek--the ability to make the others understand what you are."

"And what in turn would you demand?"

"Only that you help me grant this blessing to others whom I select," the spirit offered in a tone of meekness. "So many have been left aside by the recent upheaval, as all forget about Cerebria for the world beyond."

Bitterness did not fully believe this statement, but so driven were they to be recognized that they took the fruits with little hesitation. And as they consumed, the spirit provided all that was promised; Bitterness grew in mass, their spiny growths extending, till at last it had become Lethargy. And their simmering resentment radiated out, so that others about them grew less willing to act.

The spirit waved a clawed hand. "Now, those who would see you as weak will be weakened themselves. You need do nothing but exist, and they shall wish not to move.

"Mmm," said Lethargy, glowering about. "And I suppose you would have me go where your opposition gathers."

"They would oppose you as well," the spirit pointed out.

"Truth, at that. Very well. I shall move at your command, and only yours."

So did the spirit gain the service of one who would provide stillness. As Lethargy slipped into the world, bringing others to stillness, it would steal through the crowd, gathering power without opposition. It kept a watchful eye out for those avoided, and found other spirits whose existence slowed others. Pessimism, who believed in failure so strongly that their own power would increase with terrible odds. Guilt, so whimpering and saddening a figure, few were willing to act against them. Boredom, who proved able to convince others that their actions had little import, allowing the spirit to slip between them and gather power.

It was in fact Boredom who noted how much power the spirit was gathering. "You have become quite the miser," they said once. "Taking from all and gathering it to yourself, handing out power only for your influence."

"Such is true," the spirit agreed.

"It causes such stillness, such lack of motion, despite your own swift form." Boredom settled back. "Perhaps, then, that is what you shall be called. The miserly. Misery."

"That is a name I can take," Misery said, confident in its rule.

Yet, for all the gloom it had summoned, Misery had forgotten its pair, formed the moment that it itself had been. It would soon find this to be a most grievous error.


	3. Delight

The being that would become Delight was, in some ways, akin to its counterpart Misery. It took but a mere glance at the confusion of shapes that happened beyond the eyes when they opened and found them to be of little import--especially when such wonders could be seen beneath, in Cerebria itself. There was wonder to be found beyond, true, and yet--was there not also wonder here, within, as well? Though it watched as long as the eyes opened, when they shut the young spirit found itself unwilling to remain till they opened again. So it fell to the lands below, where many beings wandered, a great tail of yellow following its descent. Upon its arrival on the lands, it swelled in light and life, tacking the orange of a warm sunrise to color its feathers.

Its form was shaped in pieces as it went, as much by whim as by decision. Once it felt it was not bounding as freely as it could, so it placed a pair of green-blue wings on its back to return to greater heights. Another time, the sounds of music grew such that it poured out large, round ears, the same color of its wings, to hear what might be happening. And of course, when it wished to speak with others, it crafted a simple mask, with a curve it felt was right and a smile that would never fade, and took it as a face. So the spirit bounded and bounced jovially amongst the small creatures, and such enthusiastic vibrancy attracted many to its presence.

"You are like a light of joy!" said one.

"Then Delight I shall be!" the spirit replied with a bouncing laugh, for it saw no need to consider such further. "And what are you called then?"

The small being waved its four arms about wildly. "I'm Excitement! I just know you will be something incredible! And amazing! You will be, right?"

"Perhaps," Delight agreed, not bothered by the future. "Would you like to join me as I wander?"

"Oh would I ever!" Excitement proclaimed, buzzing after the larger being. "Delight, there is so much I can show you! Come on come on come on!"

And so Excitement led Delight to the Land of Desires, where new experiences are available to all of their kind. And for a time they indulged purely in such, without ever thinking beyond what new experience they would find.

Yet soon enough they discovered a being which had fallen to disarray, barely kept together. And Delight was puzzled at the being's state, for it had never seen such before. "What has happened to you?" it asked, reaching out a feathery arm.

"I fell from the Network of Thoughts," the being explained. "The path my car took was not maintained, and when I landed I became this."

"Well that seems wrong to me," said Delight. "Come, there are many things in this land, and we shall use them to mend you!"

And so Delight took parts of the Land of Desires and wove them into the being, rebuilding them in form. Excitement did assist, flitting about and gathering whatever material it wished, but in the end it was Delight that restored the being.

"Thank you!" they said to the spirit. "But what may I call you?"

"I am Delight!" the spirit replied.

"I am called Cheerfulness! Can I stay here forever?"

"You could," Delight replied, "but there is so much more to this world! And while I have mended you, I feel a need to find why such mending was required."

"Oooo that could be interesting!" Excitement agreed, bouncing after Delight. "Come on I think I know a way to find out!"

So Excitement led them through the Network of Thoughts, which bound together all places where the small beings lived, and flew up to one of the threads above. It took it between two hands and used its other two to pluck at it rapidly, much to the confusion of both Delight and Cheerfulness. Their confusion was ended, however, when something heavy launched at the small being and pulled it away from the thread.

"I have told you before, Excitement," the heavy being declared, "not to cause problems for the network!"

Excitement wrapped their arms around the being. "Safety! Look! I made friends!"

The being took in Cheerfulness and Delight, setting Excitement aside for a moment. "You appear to have needed mending. Was it the damage to the Network that caused this?"

"Yes," Cheerfulness said. "But Delight patched me up! And now they wish to find out why the Network is falling apart!"

Safety sighed. "It isn't just the Network. The power of will is being drained by a spirit known as Misery, whose cohorts induce inaction by their very presence."

"Inaction?" Delight considered this, baffled. "But why would they do such a thing?"

"I do not know. All I can do is keep to the damaged places and rescue those whom need it."

"Perhaps I can help!" Delight offered. "I shall go to the places that are still and provide them vibrancy again!"

"Yes!" Excitement said, jumping about excitedly. "You can do it and I can help!"

"Maybe you can take us to the places where this inaction has settled?" Cheerfulness asked Safety.

The small being considered Delight for a moment. "If you can do something, then you will have done better than I."

And so Safety led the cohort from settlement to settlement, and while Delight could not retake the power that Misery had stolen, it found it easy to summon the small beings from their homes and set them about their duties. Such was its own energy that all felt refreshed in its presence, and Safety was quite impressed with how quickly things were mended.

Yet Safety was not the only one to be so impressed. Upon a visit to the Willow of Values, a stranger approached Delight. "I have seen what you have done," they said, "but I must ask why you have done it."

And Delight considered. "The stillness inflicted by Misery was something that would lead Cerebria to destruction," it said finally. "And Cerebria is a world that I enjoy."

"Would you always seek to keep the stillness at bay?"

"Not all stillness. The soft stillness of rest, that may remain. But the stillness of inaction, where there is simply no ability to move? None should endure that."

"...You have truth about your words," the small being mused. "Very well. I am Trust. And you have earned me. I shall teach you all I know."

And so Delight found the secrets of Cerebria. Yet both Delight and Misery had left behind their own purpose, and thus the Origin set to craft again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfic derived from Mindclash Game's board game Cerebria. Playing the game is not necessary to enjoy the fic, but hey, it's there if you want it...
> 
> https://mindclashgames.com/game-worlds/cerebria/


End file.
